One Day in Huronia
by Luinramwen
Summary: 1636. Scaring Canada would be counterproductive, as usually a few gentle reminders were all that was needed to keep him on the straight and narrow. It didn't mean he had to agree with France all the time, though. Part of the "One Day In..." series.


Genre: family/general

Rating: pretty darn G

Word Count: not even 1000

Characters: tiny!Canada, France

Warnings: Er, none, really? Lame title, maybe?

Disclaimer: Do not own. Characters only bear resemblance to living counterparts or other people through extreme coincidence. Characters' views do not represent my own.

Notes: Really I just wanted an excuse to write cute, tiny, ever so slightly rebellious Canada, and France-nii-san (because I don't write France enough). Also, this only took an hour to write on Friday, excluding on-and-off editing time which took me to this point, because I'm a perfectionist - but that still doesn't mean I guarantee anything fantastic. LE SIGH.

Just cross-posted from my LJ account.

-

France found Canada hiding up in a tree in his yard, trembling and clinging to the branches about seven feet off the ground; first his bare scuffed and dirty feet, almost invisible behind the leaf-cover; then scabbed white knees in great contrast against the bark; and then his short pants, just visible beyond that, splattered with mud. It was Kumajirou, sitting on the ground under the tree and unconcernedly licking his paws, who'd given his position away.

"Canada, my pet, get down from there. Whatever is the matter?" France held his arms up to his little colony, concerned, and Canada, white-knuckled, wriggled his way around on the branch before dropping heavily into France's arms, and burying his face in his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly.

"N-nothing," he sniffled, and France sighed, and sat on the ground, setting the little boy down on his lap. His hands were sticky with sap from climbing, and France had to hope it wouldn't get caught in his hair. First things first, though.

"You look as though you've seen a ghost," he murmured, and when Canada gave him a puzzled look, he amended it. "A bad... spirit-guardian?" he tried. Canada still looked a little puzzled, but it wasn't the point that France was concerned with at the moment. "Well, never mind. Come now, tell your papa everything that's gone wrong." France stroked Canada's hair. Canada sniffled again, and shook his head.

"N-nothing's wrong," he insisted.

"Where have you been all day? Did someone frighten you?" France asked, because he knew neither bear nor wolf nor any animal in his woods could frighten the little colony; they were a part of him in a way that people, particularly France's, simply were not yet.

Canada hesitated, then nodded, gripping France's shirt tight in both hands, rumpling the material.

"Who was it?" he prodded, gently.

Canada mumbled a name. France blinked. "Pardon?"

"Kahrhakon:ha." Canada's face was lowered; he could only see a pale pink flush rising in his cheeks from the top, but it was enough for France to grow suspicious. "He doesn't like me any more, and he w-wouldn't let me go through, and he scared me real bad... so I ran. And I fell. But he didn't catch me," he finished quickly, almost anxiously.

It took France a long moment to recognize the name of the fierce Mohawk chieftain, and when he did, it all suddenly began to make a frightening amount of sense. Kahrhakon:ha's tribe had had a fierce animosity towards Canada and his guardian ever since some of Canada's people had so firmly allied themselves with France. But this begged yet another question.

"What in the name of the good Lord were you _doing_ in Mohawk territory, pet?" France asked, and Canada ducked his head even further.

"...Nothing," he mumbled.

"Sweetheart, really, do you take me for a fool?" France put two fingers under Canada's chin and gently forced him to look up. "Why were you in Mohawk lands? The Hudson valley's _dangerous,_ you know that."

"Just explorin'," Canada mumbled.

"Canada..." France said. Canada flinched, gripped the front of France's shirt even harder, and twisted away from France's grip on his chin. "I know you're not telling me the truth. Tell me the truth, pet. What were you doing?"

"...He asked me to visit, so I _had_ to try," Canada muttered. His mop of hair was hiding his eyes, but the sullen edge to his voice precluded any need for France to meet Canada's gaze. He was telling the truth this time.

"Canada," France sighed, feeling his head starting hurt. But it could have been much worse - he could have actually made it _through_ Mohawk territory and into New Holland, and then had to return back to New France through the same way, if Holland didn't cause any extra problems by trying to keep Canada, which was certainly a big _if._ Scaring Canada even more than he already had would be counterproductive, as the boy would cry and not be able to sleep, and feel guilty and miserable for weeks on end. Canada was a sensible child, most of the time. Gentle reminders were usually enough to keep him on the straight and narrow. "What have I told you?"

"That I can't go wandering off and just talk to anybody I want to because alliances and important," Canada mumbled.

"And?" he prompted.

"And I can't talk to Mohawks."

"And?"

"And I'm not supposed to talk to other nations who deal with them either."

_"And?"_

"...And that H-Holland's a jerk and shouldn't be trusted." Canada still sounded quite sullen and unhappy.

"That's right." France cupped his cheek in his hand. "Are you going to remember that from now on, sweetheart?"

"... Yes," grumbled Canada. France decided it would be best to ignore that. Canada might be annoyed with him, but at least he wasn't shivering and clingy any longer. Anyways, it was for his own good.

"Good. Now come inside, pet, I baked corn-cake this afternoon - would you like a slice?"

"Maize," Canada muttered, scuffing at the dirt as he stood.

"Pardon? I didn't hear the magic word!" France said. He pretended he hadn't heard what Canada _had_ said. It was a habit he'd overcome eventually.

"Yes please," Canada said, and for a second France thought he saw a strange expression flicker across his little colony's face, before it disappeared as he put his hand obediently in France's, and followed him indoors.

-

Final Notes:

My main source for this was Bruce Trigger's 1968 article, "The French Presence in Huronia: The Structure of Franco-Huron Relations in the First Half of the Seventeenth Century." My Canadian Pre-Confederation History class means that when I do my homework I spend more time thinking about tiny!Canada than is perhaps necessary. It also makes the readings that much more interesting. (Thanks Hetalia?)

Another Trigger article tells me that Canada was indeed known as Canada throughout this period, so that's what I went with (I wasn't entirely sure if this was the case).

The Dutch traded in the Hudson Valley area throughout the early-mid-1600's, mostly with the Mohawk. The Huron, the ones who had initiated contact with France in the first days of the colonization attempts and eventually formed the Franco-Huron alliance to facilitate economic and political ties, were strongly discouraged from going downriver and trading with the Dutch, who would otherwise have been pleased to take trade away from the French. The only other route to New Holland was through Mohawk territory, who were not particularly friendly to the Huron, so no such trade ever ended up happening. However, the Huron were divided on the issue of keeping the French alliance, mostly after the Jesuits were sent in to live in the villages in Huronia to teach and convert - thus why Canada shows occasional rebellious hints here. For the purposes of fic, I assume that since the French were the first European settlers and a big part of Canada's heritage, this means that it's mainly just the tribes who associated with the French who were considered Canada's people. This is of course neither historically accurate nor true, since tribal lands certainly do not match up to modern political borders.

In my universe, France indiscriminately calls everyone by pet names, because he's France. I don't write them in French like most others do because I figure if all the nations can understand each other anyways (because, for starters, how on iearth/i would England and France have been able to speak right away to Canada and America if they didn't?), regardless of what language they speak, it probably just sounds the same to Canada.

This whole language issue is rather confusing, though, as there is also evidence (see the Greece and Japan strips where Greece has been practicing his Japanese) to suggest that they do have to learn each other's languages as well. So does this mean there's just one 'all-nations common language' that they all know regardless of origin or when contact with other nations was first made? Or do they all just understand every language? Or do they have to teach each other in order to communicate at all?

I took the Mohawk chieftain's name as the word that apparently means _hawk_, because I couldn't find any real names of Mohawk chiefs from this era, nor could I find a list of actual Mohawk names. *sigh* I tried. At least it sounds semi-plausible and is in the right language.

... I put entirely too much thought into such a short little piece, hahaha. *head/desk*


End file.
